


Hellblazer and the Prisoner of Azkaban

by Soron66



Series: Constantine/Harry Potter crossover [3]
Category: Constantine (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soron66/pseuds/Soron66
Summary: John helps the protagonists in the mystery of Sirius Black. Will Black be set free at the end of this by the Ministry or will it have the canon ending? You'll just have to read to find out. I'm sorry to say that I don't think I'll be able to finish the stories. I wanted to, but I can't anymore. I've lost all interest in it. This story is now discontinued and adopted by LeonDesdichard.





	1. An Egyptian Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine everyone having their appearances from the 3rd movie. Just thought I’d make that clear in case i hadn’t done so before. Have to make them physically older for the John/Anne Marie/Fleur triangle thing in case I do something like that. Fleur would have a similar appearance to the 4th movie, but younger. This story may or may not be as long as the canon one. It all depends on if I have it so Black is set free or not.

Chapter 1: An Egyptian Adventure

 

John sat in a chair with a glass of ice cold water in his hand outside on a balcony with sunglasses on so the really bright sunlight wouldn’t blind him. Unlike the previous year, the Weasley family had gone to Egypt thanks to one of Ron’s older siblings. His name was Bill and he worked for Gringotts. As to why anyone would want to work for a bunch of unpleasant and ugly creatures…. John had no clue. However, he had never been to Egypt before so he didn’t care one way or another. This time around, everyone had a growth spurt. John didn’t grow as much as they did, but he still grew enough that he had to get new clothes. He got the usual clothes along with a new coat. This time it wasn’t a raincoat and was a knee-length tan trench coat. The rest of his attire was pretty much the same though.

“You’ll get a sunburn if you stay out here, ya know,” said a feminine voice from nearby. John didn’t have to look to recognize the speaker. The voice belonged to Anne Marie. She had elected to go with them as her family were leaving on a business trip without her.

“Not with the enchanted sunblock I put on,” John replied before he took a sip of his drink.

“Why are you out here anyway?” Anne asked.

“I wanted to get out of the room due to Ron’s shouting,” John answered.

“You could’ve told him how to answer the phone…” Anne said dryly.

“Nothing teaches better than experience,” John shrugged.

“Fair point,” Anne nodded.

“Oh,” Anne said as she turned to head inside, “Mrs. Weasley says that it’s almost time to head out so we should prepare ourselves.”

John didn’t respond except to take a drink of his water as he got up from the chair. He followed Anne inside and saw that the Weasleys had outfitted themselves in Egyptian garb.

“Aren’t you hot?” Ginny asked as she looked at his clothing.

“Thanks for noticing, luv,” John replied.

“Very funny,” Ginny said rolling her eyes, “you know what I meant.”

“The enchanted sunblock is surprisingly cool,” John shrugged, “Especially if I drink cool water.”

“You might want to change then,” Molly said as she walked out of her and Arthur’s room wearing similar garb.

“Why?” John asked.

“We’re going to see the pyramids next,” Fred or George said eagerly.

“Lovely,” John said sarcastically, “I’ve always wanted to be sprayed by pressurized salt acid.”

“Huh?” asked the entire Weasley family.

“Great,” John sighed to himself, “why is it pure-blood families have zero interest in muggle entertainment and other things?”

“Too much temptation for some,” Molly said as she cast a disapproving glance at Arthur who was staring into the earpiece of a muggle house phone as if it was a spyglass.

**Later, on a caravan of camels…**

John was miserable. It was hot, the sun was bearing down on him, and he had to change into clothes not his own. However, he had to admit that the attire he put on was indeed best for desert heat.

“How long till we get there?” Ron called to Molly Weasley who was closer to the front alongside Arthur Weasley.

“Quiet!” shouted their guide who wore a white long sleeve shirt with buttons, tan khaki pants, brown dress shoes, suspenders, and a brown fedora.

“Don’t shout at my kid!” Molly shouted in return.

“My apologies,” the guide grunted, “However, unless you want your son to become something’s dinner…”

“What do you mean?” Arthur Weasley asked as he looked around.

“There’s a being out around here that is rumored to be the cause of several tourists like yourselves to go missing,” the guide replied.

That had a sobering effect on everyone, and from then on nobody uttered a word.

About midday, they finally arrived at the Pyramids of Giza. As soon as the guide came to a halt, they followed suit.

“Blimey I’m parched,” John muttered as he pulled a flash of water from his camel.

Once everyone had refreshed themselves, the guide walked towards the entrance and peered in.

The guide was so focused on peering into the darkness of the pyramid that he didn’t notice as John Constantine walked up behind him.

“Looking for mummies?” John asked. The guide jumped a bit and whirled to stare at John.

“No,” the guide finally replied after his heart rate had normalized, “I’m looking for signs of traps.”

“Like that one?” John asked as he gestured towards a seam in the floor of the entrance to the pyramid.

“Good eye,” the guide said approvingly, “What’s your name kid?”

“John Constantine,” John replied, “and you?”

“Carter Hall,” the guide replied before he walked back to his camel.

John watched as Carter removed several sticks from the saddlebags on the camel, but then focused his attention on the entrance of the pyramid.

John clasped his hands together and rolled his eyes as he prepared to do some of his muggle-magic.

“John!” hissed Anne as she walked up in her Arabian clothes, “you're not allowed to do magic outside of school!”

“This is muggle-magic,” John assured her as he stared at her, “there are no laws against using it.”

However, before he could use his muggle-magic Carter Hall returned and John reluctantly lowered his hands and placed them in the folds of his rent-a-cloth.

“Okay,” Carter said with a messenger bag now slung on his shoulder Indiana Jones style, “follow me. Don’t deviate from the path, don’t touch anything, and don’t steal a thing. If you do as I say, you’ll be fine.”

“What are those club-things for?” Ginny asked.

“Beating balls?” Fred or George said instantly thinking of Quidditch.

“These are torches,” Carter explained, “It’s what the ancient Egyptians used way back when. Same for medieval England, Britain, and even the colonial americans used them.”

“They look like sticks to me,” Arthur said excitedly, “does that mean that torches is another word for sticks?”

The guide blinked twice when he heard that, because it was the dumbest thing he’s heard in a while. Especially, since it came from the mouth of an adult.

“Torches are sticks doused in flammable liquids set ablaze,” John explained to ensure their visit to the Pyramids was no longer than necessary.

“Ohhhhh,” the entire Weasley group said with a tone that indicated they didn’t know that till now. Which they didn’t, but Carter Hall didn’t know that.

“Follow me,” Carter said as he shook his surprise away. He turned around, and after he made sure the trapdoor at the Pyramid’s entrance wasn’t going to activate he walked through.

**Later, inside of the Pyramid…**

They had to walk carefully and slowly as there could be traps at any step. John was getting impatient as well, because he really didn’t want to be in what was essentially a gigantic graveyard. For all he knew, Imhotep was about to wake up and kill them all. He was also bored, because nothing interesting was happening either. Eventually, they made it into a bigger room which had some mirrors, chairs, and tables around the room. Some of the tables looked to be far more recent while others were unusable. Same goes for the chairs. The mirrors on the other hand were kept in good condition.

“You see those mirrors?” Carter Hall asked as he gestured with his torch.

“Those don’t look good for checking out one’s appearance,” Molly said confused.

“That’s because they were used as a light source back in Ancient Egypt,” Carter explained.

“How are mirrors a light source?” Arthur asked confused.

“Watch and learn,” Carter replied as he picked up a random stone and threw it at the mirror. The Weasleys thought the mirror would shatter, but to their shock the mirror merely flipped till it caught the sunlight that was pouring in from a hole in the roof. The sunlight reflected off of the mirror and onto the others which brightened up the room a lot.

“Amazing,” Arthur said with wide eyes, “These muggles were ingenious!”

 _Muggles?_ Carter thought confused.

John however, wasn’t paying attention as he stared at a wall with Hieroglyphics on it. There were two images that stood out, and they were of two beings with feathered wings in battle against Egypt’s enemies. John immediately walked towards it and wiped some dust off of the wall.

“That wall tells of two warriors,” Carter said once he noticed what John was doing, “They fought the enemies of Egypt on their own for a while. However, not even they were strong enough to fight off Egypt's worst enemy. Rome. The two warriors were defeated and crucified. According to the legend, the two reincarnated time and time again due to a spell they whispered to one another. So, they could be alive today. However, legends are generally exaggerated and so mostly bogus.”

John looked Carter and saw the long-stare combined with grief. John narrowed his eyes, because someone of the present shouldn’t have such a reaction of two people from the past.

“Moving on,” Carter said suddenly as he headed towards the exit.

**Towards the end of the visit…**

There were some rooms that had curses on them, and some were booby-traps made by muggles. Once they reached the last room, Molly Weasley forbade Ginny from entering the last one. As they followed Carter towards the exit, John glanced into rooms and the last one he glanced into had a golden helmet. It was undoubtedly made out of real gold too. He slowed to a stop as he felt something coming from the helmet. It felt similar to what Gryffindor’s sword felt, but different as well. For a second, John thought he saw the eye-holes flash with a golden light. However, once he realized he was getting left behind he hurried after the Weasleys and Carter Hall.

**Later in the afternoon…**

The twins were chatting excitedly about possibilities for pranks which made Molly frown. Molly immediately forbade them from following up on their ideas, but that only made the twins even more certain in coming up with new pranks. Arthur was also excited, but merely because he found out more about muggles. Ginny and Anne were chatting together about their venture and their guide who they thought a looker. Ron immediately sat down, pulled out a parchment and quill, and began to write furiously. John on the other hand looked at a medallion in his hand that he had grabbed from the pyramid. He hadn’t intended to, but he felt that he should so he did. It had the image of a man on one side and an image of a wolf on the other side.

John immediately went towards his hotel room and changed back into his own clothes after putting on his enchanted sunblock. John placed the medallion into his pocket, and put his wand into his inside coat pocket. He returned to where he had left the Weasleys and found they weren’t there anymore. In fact, the lobby was empty except for a man in black desert robes with a curved sword in his sash(?).

John immediately turned to head back up, but stopped when he found two more standing behind them. As to how they got there… he had no freaking clue.

“'Aead ma sarqth,” said the one John saw first. John slowly turned around to look at the man.

“Sorry,” John said sarcastically, “I don’t speak Aladdin.”

“I said,” the man said irritated as he stepped forward, “return what you have stolen.”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” John said innocently.

“We know you have it,” the man persisted as the two other men prodded John forward, “We saw you put the medallion into your clothes as you left the pyramid.”

John just stayed quiet and crossed his arms.

“Unless you want a curse to fall upon you and all you hold dear,” the man implored as he held his hand out, “hand it to me.”

John stared at him for a while as he determined whether the man was lying or not, but eventually he concluded that the man was being honest. John slowly pulled out the medallion and handed it to the man who quickly pocketed it.

“Midalia allaykan fireawn,” the man muttered to himself. John just blinked twice when he heard that.

“Why did you take this?” the man asked curious.

“I just felt I had to,” John shrugged, “I didn’t actually want or need it. I usually go with my gut feeling, and if my gut didn’t feel I had to I wouldn’t have.”

“This medallion is said to cure or cause lycanthropy,” the man said.

“I think I’m safe from becoming a furball,” John said with a shrug.

“Then you must be about to meet someone that has been bitten by a werewolf,” the man said thoughtfully.

“You a believer of magic?” John asked.

“I am a Medjai,” the man said, “a guardian of Egypt. I have sworn to ensure that the monster never arises and that all curses of Egypt remain dormant.”

“A simple yes would have sufficed,” John remarked dryly.

“True,” the man said before he handed the medallion to John, “and I hope this medallion proves helpful to you.”

“So, there’s no curse about to ‘fall upon me and all I hold dear’?” John asked.

“Not from that medallion,” the Medjai shook his head, “at least not one that can’t be cured with the medallion as well.”

“Okay then,” John shrugged as he put it back in his pocket.

“I ask that you return the medallion to Egypt once you have used it,” the Medjai said as he and his two buddies headed towards the door, “because if you don’t… the effects will be disastrous.”

At that, the Medjais left the building.

**A few days later, with Harry…**

Harry woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Ron, Hermione, and John tomorrow on the Hogwarts Express. He got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where he'd have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned.

"Harry! HARRY!"

They were there, all three of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him. John looked the same as usual, but with a new coat. Also, like Harry, Ron and Hermione both had a growth spurt so they were around the same height as John. Think movie appearances for every canon character, and versions of the Constantine characters from the tv show looking around the same age.

"Finally!" said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down, "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and-"

"I got all my school stuff last week," Harry explained. "And how come you knew I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

“Dad," said Ron simply.

Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge.

"Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?" said Hermione in a very serious voice.

"I didn't mean to," said Harry, while Ron roared with laughter. "I just… lost control."

"It's not funny, Ron," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

“Same goes for you, John,” Hermione said sternly to John who had burst out laughing.

“I’m not laughing about that,” John said as he sobered up, “I’m just laughing about the image of Draco receiving the same treatment.”

Ron and John burst out laughing again, but harder.

"So am I, Hermione," admitted Harry. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested." He looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?"

 "Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" shrugged Ron, still chuckling. "Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's staying there as well!"

Hermione nodded, beaming. "Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things."

"Excellent!" said Harry happily. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

"Look at this," said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we've got all our books --" He pointed at a large bag under his chair. "What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two."

"What's all that, Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her.

“Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I' said Hermione. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies-"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry. "You're Muggle- born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!"

“I’m with Ron on this,” John said also baffled.

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," said Hermione earnestly.

“You want to know of them from the wizarding point of view?” John said, “I’ll tell you something about them. Muggles SUCK. They hate anything they don’t understand. Take Harry’s muggle relatives. They treated him like freaking Cinderella just because his parents had magic and they feared he did. Now they’re just abusive of him.”

“What’s a Cinderella?” Ron asked confused.

“Doesn’t matter,” John said with a quick glance at him.

“My own dad drank and beat me just because I was magical,” John continued to Hermione, “It didn’t help any that he was a freaking priest.”

“Well,” Hermione said with narrowed eyes, “not all muggles are as horrid as your dad or Harry’s relatives, John. My parents happen to be quite nice. I’m looking for an unbiased opinion of them. An opinion that is neither good nor bad.”

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?" asked Harry when he sensed the growing tension, while Ron sniggered. Hermione ignored them.

"I've still got ten Galleons," she said, checking her purse to change the subject. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a nice... book? said Ron innocently.

"No, I don't think so," said Hermione composedly. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig and you've got Errol-"

"I haven't," said Ron. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers." He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. "And I want to get him checked over," he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of them. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers.

“Not having him for stew then,” John said as he eyed the rodent. That earned a glare from Ron.

“I’m off,” John decided, “It’s pretty clear that I’m not wanted here anyway.”

At that, John left them to do their thing while he did his own.

"There's a magical creature shop just over there," said Harry to change the mood, who knew Diagon Alley very well by now. "You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl."

So they paid for their ice cream and crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie.

There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants Of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing. The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited, examining the cages.

A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise. Then there were cats of every color, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats that were playing some sort of skipping game using their long, bald tails.

The double-ended newt wizard left, and Ron approached the counter.

"It's my rat," he told the witch. "He has been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt."

"Bang him on the counter," said the witch, pulling a pair of heavy black spectacles out of her pocket.

Ron lifted Scabbers out of his pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better look.

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was secondhand (he had once belonged to Ron's brother Percy) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone.

"Hm," said the witch, picking up Scabbers. "How old is this rat?"

"Dunno," said Ron. "Quite old. He used to belong to my brother."

"What powers does he have?" said the witch, examining Scabbers closely.

"Er…” The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The witch’s eyes moved from Scabbers's tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

"He's been through the mill, this one," she said.

"He was like that when Percy gave him to me," said Ron defensively.

"An ordinary common or garden rat like this can't be expected to live longer than three years or so," said the witch, "Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these-"

She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again. Ron muttered, "Show-offs."

"Well, if you Don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic," said the witch, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

"Okay," said Ron. "How much -- OUCH!"

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!" cried the witch, but Scabbers, shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door.

"Scabbers!" Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed.

It took them nearly ten minutes to catch Scabbers, who had taken refuge under a wastepaper bin outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ron stuffed the trembling rat back into his pocket and straightened up, massaging his head.

"What was that?"

"It was either a very big cat or quite a small tiger," said Harry.

"Where's Hermione?"

"Probably getting her owl.”

They made their way back up the crowded street to the Magical Menagerie. As they reached it, Hermione came out, but she wasn't carrying an owl. Her arms were clamped tightly around the enormous ginger cat.

"You bought that monster?" said Ron, his mouth hanging open.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" said Hermione, glowing.

That was a matter of opinion, thought Harry. The cat's ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall. Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly in Hermione's arms.

"Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!" said Ron.

"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" said Hermione.

"And what about Scabbers?" said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic," said Hermione, slapping the small red bottle into Ron's hand. "And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him."

"Wonder why," said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

**Meanwhile, with John…**

John stood in front of a building which had items inside of it as city-shops do. However, these items were unlike those you’d find in the Muggle world. The item John was staring at specifically was an amulet. Said amulet looked more like an Ankh.

“Monsieur Constantine!” said a familiar french voice nearby. John turned to look at who said his name and widened his eyes. Standing nearby were Madam. Delacour, Fleur, and another young girl that looked similar to Fleur.

“You don’t have a demon you need exorcising, do you?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” Madam Delacour shook her head, “This year we are staying in the French Embassy, and while we are… Fleur will be attending 'Ogwarts.”

“Well then,” John sighed, “Unless you’ve been here before, I’ll play the role of tour guide for now.”

“That would be...uh…” Madam Decalour trailed off.

“Awesome? Wonderful? Great?” John suggested.

“Ah yes,” Madam Delacour said gratefully, “The middle word, wonderful, is the one I was looking for.”

**At the Leaky Cauldron…**

Harry, Ron, and Hermione found Mr. Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily prophet.

"Harry!" he said, smiling as he looked up. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," said Harry as he, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr. Weasley at the table.

Mr. Weasley put down his paper, and Harry saw the now familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at him. Imagine Gary Oldman’s appearance in the 3rd movie.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" he asked.

"No," said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" asked Ron. "It'd be good to get some more money-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, You mark my words."

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys' youngest child and only girl, Ginny.

“Where’s John?” Molly asked concerned as John wasn’t there.

“Probably making mean jokes about people’s pets,” Ron grunted his mood soured by the mention of John.

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, didn’t seem to notice Harry except by giving a casual nod. Ginny was just as concerned as Molly was about John. Perhaps, even more than Molly. Probably, because John had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts and again in the Pyramid. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, "Harry. How nice to see you.”

"Hello, Percy," said Harry, trying not to laugh.

“I hope you're well?" said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

"Very well, thanks-"

"Harry!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy-"

"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum!" said Fred as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand too. "How really corking to see you-"

"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. "Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.”

"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled.

"You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, let them be,” said a Liverpudlian voice from nearby, “Every family needs a goofy relative or two. Otherwise, you’ll end up miserable from boredom.”

They all turned to see that John had returned and was flipping his wand in the air like the Doctor does with his sonic screwdriver.

“I will not!” Molly said sternly, “They need to grow up, and behave respectably!!”

“If muggles can make a living out of making people laugh,” John said as he put his wand away before he headed their way, “then so can these two idiots.”

“Hey!” the twins exclaimed in unison.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," said Percy suddenly and loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner…”

Even though he hadn’t intended to, he had just defended Fred and George.

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.

"We tried to shut him in a pyramid," he told Harry. "But Mum spotted us."

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and John ate their way through five delicious courses.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" asked Fred as they dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.”

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," said Mr. Weasley.

Everyone except John looked up at him.

"Why?" said Percy curiously.

"It's because of you, Perce," said George seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them."

“For Humongous Bighead," added Fred.

Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding.

"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, in a dignified voice.

"Well, they-" said Mr. Weasley.

“Arthur,” Molly said as she gave him a look.

“They’re just doing me a favor,” Arthur slowly finished.

His voice was casual, but Harry couldn't help noticing that Mr. Weasley's ears had gone red, just like Ron's did when he was under pressure.

"Good thing, too," said Mrs. Weasley briskly. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground… You are all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. "He's dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs. Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy.

“Potter’s going to find out eventually,” John finally spoke up which attracted their attention, “so there’s no point in hiding it from him.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Molly lied with a shocked look in her eyes. She had no idea that John knew about Black’s reason for escaping Azkaban.

“Sometimes…” John said slowly, “the best way to protect someone… is to tell them everything. That way they can be ready.”

“That’s what I said,” Arthur agreed with a sigh, “but Molly wouldn’t go for it.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked confused. Hermione, Ron, the twins, Ginny, and Percy were also confused.

“Never you mind, dear,” Molly said kindly to Harry.

After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Ron and Percy were next door to Harry. He had just closed and locked his own trunk when he heard angry voices through the wall, and went to see what was going on.

The door of number twelve was ajar and Percy was shouting.

"It was here, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing!”

"I haven't touched it, all right?" Ron roared back.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"My Head Boy badge is gone," said Percy, rounding on Harry.

"So's Scabbers's rat tonic," said Ron, throwing things out of his trunk to look. "I think I might've left it in the bar-"

"You're not going anywhere ‘till you've found my badge!" yelled Percy. "I'll get Scabbers's stuff, I'm packed," Harry said to Ron, and he went downstairs.

Harry was halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when he heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, he recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys'. He hesitated, not wanting them to know he'd heard them arguing, when the sound of his own name made him stop, then move closer to the parlor door.

"Makes no sense not to tell him," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Harry's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and-"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify him!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's happy not knowing!"

“Oh come on!” said the voice of John, “He’s faced You-Know-Who himself! Twice I might add! Once when he was a runt, and again in his first year! This is nothing compared to that!!”

“It might be nothing to you,” Molly’s voice said angrily, “but it will be everything to him! He will be miserable if you tell him!”

“John’s right. We just want to put him on his guard, not make him miserable,” retorted Mr. Weasley. "You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves… they've ended up in the Forbidden Forest once and in John’s case, twice! But Harry mustn't do that this year! When I think about what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him."

"But he's not dead, he's fine, so what's the point-”

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after.”

"But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry.”

There was a thud on wood, and Harry was sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black’s been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You- Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…”

There was a silence. Harry leaned still closer to the door, desperate to hear more.

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

“That may be,” John put in, “but the Headmaster isn’t always at the school.”

"Of course he knows,” Arthur answered, “We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around every entrance to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that... but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” John said.

"If they save Harry then I will never say another word against them, said Mr. Weasley wearily. "It's late, Molly, we'd better go up…”

“You too, John,” Arthur added.

Harry heard chairs move. As quietly as he could, he hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlor door opened, and a few seconds later footsteps told him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were climbing the stairs.

Harry walked into the parlor and looked for the rat tonic, but didn’t find it.

“How long were you standing there?” asked John from the shadows.

“Long enough,” Harry said as he turned towards the shadows.

“Good,” John said as he tossed the tonic to Harry.

“Where did you get this?” Harry asked.

“I nicked it from Ron and Percy’s room,” John said, “I also nicked Percy’s badge.”

“Why?” Harry asked with narrowed eyes.

“I knew Percy and Ron would start yelling at each other,” explained John, “and I knew it would attract your attention. I knew Percy would not let Ron leave the room till the badge was found. I knew you would volunteer to get the tonic for him.”

“You planned this?!” Harry exclaimed.

“Most of it,” John said, “not the row between Molly and Arthur though. I was going to tell you directly, but looks like fate had a similar idea.”

“Where’s the badge?” Harry asked.

“Not on me,” John replied cryptically as he headed towards the stairs. Harry hesitated as he thought over what he heard this night, but eventually he too headed up the stairs.

As soon as Harry reached the top landing, he heard snickers of laughter. Curious, he headed towards the shadows where he found the twins. Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron's room in search of his badge.

"We've got the badge," Fred whispered to Harry. "We've been improving it."

The badge now read Bighead Boy.

Harry forced a laugh, went to give Ron the rat tonic, then shut himself in his room and laid down on his bed.

So Sirius Black was after him. This explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with him because he was so relieved to find him alive. He'd made Harry promise to stay in Diagon Alley where there were plenty of wizards to keep an eye on him. And he was sending two Ministry cars to take them all to the station tomorrow, so that the Weasleys could look after Harry until he was on the train.

Harry lay listening to the muffled shouting next door and wondered why he didn't feel more scared. Sirius Black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley obviously thought Harry would be panic-stricken if he knew the truth. But Harry happened to agree wholeheartedly with Mrs. Weasley that the safest place on earth was wherever Albus Dumbledore happened to be. Didn't people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Black, as Voldemort's right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him?

And then there were these Azkaban guards everyone kept talking about. They seemed to scare most people senseless, and if they were stationed all around the school, Black's chances of getting inside seemed very remote.

No, all in all, the thing that bothered Harry most was the fact that his chances of visiting Hogsmeade now looked like zero. Nobody would want Harry to leave the safety of the castle until Black was caught; in fact, Harry suspected his every move would be carefully watched until the danger had passed.

He scowled at the dark ceiling. Did they think he couldn't look after himself? He'd escaped Lord Voldemort two times; he wasn't completely useless. Well, John believed in him probably… or he thought the danger was minimal.

Unbidden, the image of the beast in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent crossed his mind. What to do when you know the worst is coming…

"I'm not going to be murdered," Harry said out loud.

"That's the spirit, dear," said his mirror sleepily.


	2. The Dementor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Fleur reunite, Fleur at Hogwarts for the first time, and John becomes a bodyguard.

Chapter 2: The Dementor

 

John walked through a dense forest filled with all kinds of bugs, some lizards, and birds too. In the distance he could hear horses along with shouting. He immediately ran towards it as he pulled out his two handed longsword. Once he reached a clearing, he saw some Celts in battle with another army. Said army were outfitted in black spiky armor and wielded weapons with jagged blades and spikes on the handguards.

_ This is too close to the haven, _ thought John grimly. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed passed him and stuck into a tree to his rear.

He narrowed his eyes as he saw the archer who shot in his direction. It was one of the spiked warriors, and he was knocking another arrow into his bow which was aimed right at John. The archer fired his arrow, and this time the target was spot on. Fortunately, John was fast enough to deflect the arrow with his sword. John then ran towards the nearest spiked warrior as he gave a battle cry. As he slashed, he saw his reflection in the blade of one of the spiked warriors. He looked just like Aragorn from the Lord of the Rings movies.

Suddenly, John opened his eyes in time to see a glint in the darkness. It was right above him and getting closer. John immediately rolled out of the bed and in the process, he picked up his wand.

“Who the bloody hell are you?!” demanded John.

“That wand,” said the intruder with a modulated voice, “give it to me!”

“If you want it,” John snarled, “come and claim it.”

**Meanwhile, in Fleur’s room at the Leaky Cauldron…**

Fleur woke up to the sound of crashing in the room across from her. She tried to go back to sleep as she was still sleepy, but she couldn’t as she felt a sudden sense of danger. That woke her up completely and so she bolted up straight and looked around wildly. She heard another crash in the room across her room, and immediately got up from her bed. She picked up her own wand as she headed towards the door. She slowly opened the door as to prevent her mother and younger sister from stirring. She closed it just as slowly after she left the room, and headed towards the room across from her.

As soon as she got to the room, she opened the door to see John in nothing but his American boxers struggling against an opponent who was trying to stab into him with a knife.

“Carpe retractum!” Fleur shouted which produced a rope of light that wrapped itself around the assailant’s hand. Suddenly, the rope of light yanked the knife away which allowed John to knee him in the groin. As soon as the assailant fell to the ground, John got to his feet and walked over to his wand.

“Thanks for the assist, luv,” John said as he headed back towards his assailant, “but I’ve got it from here.”

“You were attacked,” Fleur said in concern, “You need to be checked for injuries.”

“What I need,” John said as he stood over his assailant, “is answers. Head back to your room.”

“No,” Fleur said sternly, “I’m not leaving you till I’m certain you’re okay.”

“You’re really stubborn,” John sighed as he finally looked at her. Fleur was clothed in a nightshirt.

“Oui,” Fleur admitted as she took a step closer, “plus, I owe you a debt. You saved my life twice, so I’m going to return the favor.”

**In the morning…**

Tom woke Harry the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy…”

"I've got something to tell you," Harry began, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly. The Delacours were also down there, but at a different table. John was at his own table for whatever reason.

"What were you saying?" Ron asked Harry as they sat down.

"Later," Harry muttered as Percy stormed in.

Harry had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.

"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."

"You won't," snapped Ron. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?"

He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket.

“You alright?” Fleur asked John who had a less than thrilled expression on his face.

“The ministry bastards didn’t even bother to tell me who had tried to kill me and take my wand,” John said grumpily, “and I doubt they ever will.”

“I doubt you’ll let that stop you from finding out,” Fleur said.

“You’re right about that,” John said.

Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.

"They're here, he said. "Harry, come on."

Mr. Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

"In you get, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street.

Harry got into the back of the car and was shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron's disgust, Percy. John elected to ride with the Delacours as there wasn’t enough room with the Weasleys in their ministry car.

The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry's trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary. though Harry noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.

Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry's elbow all the way into the station.

"Right then," he said, glancing around them. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry."

Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him.

In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three- quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run. John and the Delacours appeared not long after the Weasleys.

"Ah, there's Penelope!" said Percy, smoothing his hair and going Pink again. Ginny caught Harry's eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge. She stood back to let him on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

"I need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.

"Go away, Ginny," said Ron.

"Oh, that's nice," said Ginny huffily, and she stalked off.

“I promised Anne I’d ride in her compartment today,” John said as he picked up his carpet bag that he had enchanted to be bigger on the inside. He had put all of his school stuff into it.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.

This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.

The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," whispered Hermione at once.

"How d'you know that?"

"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

"Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile.

"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already had two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. There were rumors that the job was jinxed.

"well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like a good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway..." He turned to Harry. "What were you going to tell us?"

Harry explained all about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's argument, how he had come to hear their argument, and the warning Mr. Weasley had given him just before he got on the train. When he'd finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry… you'll have to be really, really careful. don't go looking for trouble, Harry --"

"I Don't go looking for trouble," said Harry, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me."

"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Ron shakily.

They were taking the news worse than Harry had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than he was.

"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," said Ron uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" said Hermione earnestly. "I Mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too-” 

"What's that noise?" said Ron suddenly.

"It's coming from your trunk, Harry," said Ron, standing UP and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a Sneakoscope?" said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look.

"Yeah... mind you, it's a very cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" said Hermione shrewdly.

"No! Well… I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys… but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"

"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."

He nodded toward Professor Lupin. Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.

"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," said Ron, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain-"

"Yeah, I think it is," interrupted Ron in an offhand sort of way, "But that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside HoneyDukes."

"What's that?" said Hermione.

"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look came over his face, "where they've got everything… Pepper Imps, they make you smoke at the mouth, and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next-"

"But Hogsmeade is a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack is supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain-"

"And massive sherbert balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked around at Harry.

"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"

"'Spect it will," said Harry heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."

"What d'you mean?" asked Ron.

"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either."

Ron looked horrified.

""You're not allowed to come? But -- no way -- McGonagall or someone will give you permission -- "

"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and the Weasel."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley," said Malfoy. "Did your mother die of shock?" 

Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a snort.

"Who's that?" said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.

"New teacher," said Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.

"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.

Harry and Ron sat down again, Ron massaging his knuckles.

"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," he said angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and-"

Ron made a violent gesture in midair.

"Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful…”

But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.

**With John…**

John just sat in the compartment in between Fleur and Anne who had somehow managed to take up so much space on the train couches… seats… sitting furniture they were squishing John. John was less than comfortable, but he’s being in much worse conditions so he’s not really complaining.

“Think we’re almost there?” Anne asked as she looked outside of the window.

“I am really excited to see ‘ogwarts for the first time,” Fleur said beaming, “I ‘ave always wanted to visit it.”

“Why are you coming to Hogwarts this year anyway?” Anne asked as she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“My parents are…” Fleur said as her smile faded, “taking a break. My mere wanted me to be as far away from my pere as possible.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Anne said guiltily, “What happened?”

“Leave it, Anne,” John said sternly, “You’re reaching a topic that is best left alone.”

“Wait…” Anne said as she looked at him, “you know why this is happening?”

“I have my suspicions,” John said half-honestly. The full truth is, he could feel Fleur’s mood concerning the subject. Anger towards her father and anger about the situation. There was only one thing that could explain it, and it wasn’t very good.

As soon as John finished speaking, the train began slowing down.

“ ‘Ave we arrived?” Fleur asked curious.

“Can’t have,” John said as he looked at a wall-clock.

“So why are we stopping?” Anne asked nervous.

“I don’t know,” John said grimly.

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Fleur, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

“See anything, luv?” John asked Fleur.

“No,” Fleur replied, “lights are out and other passengers are looking out into the aisle like me, but that’s it.”

"Ouch!" gasped Anne. "John, that was my foot!"

Fleur, felt her way back to his seat.

"D'you think we've broken down?" Fleur asked.

“I don’t know…” John said quietly.

There was a squeaking sound, and Fleur saw the dim black outline of Anne, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Anne said. "I think people are coming aboard…”

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Fleur's legs causing her to shriek.

"Sorry -- d'you know what's going on? -- Ouch -- sorry,” said the voice of Gary Lester.

"Gaz, you clumsy wanker," said John, feeling around in the dark and pulling Gary up by his cloak.

“John? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea -- sit down --"

As Gary sat down, Anne got up onto her feet and straightened her clothing.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Anne's voice. John felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

"Who's that?" asked Fleur.

"Who's that?" asked a feminine voice.

“Phoebe?” Anne asked.

“Anne?” asked Phoebe.

“What are you doing at our compartment?” Anne asked confused.

“I was looking for John,” Phoebe replied.

“Well, come on then,” Anne sighed, “have a seat.”

“Not ‘ere!” Fleur exclaimed.

“Yow!” exclaimed Gary.

“Shut it!” John said suddenly.

**Back with Harry…**

A stranger stood in Harry’s compartment with what looked like a handful of flames. They gave off a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light which filled the compartment. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary. He was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

"Stay where you are," he said in a hoarse voice, and he slowly got to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before the man could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in his hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water…

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart…

Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder.

And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't… a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him-

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?"

Someone was slapping his face.

"W-what?"

Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking -- the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had reignited. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Neville and the stranger watching. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face.

Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that… that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still.

Harry looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville, who had arrived at their apartment when the train was slowing down, looked back at him. They were both very pale.

"But I heard screaming-" Harry began.

A loud snap made them all jump. The stranger was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."

Harry took the chocolate but didn't eat it.

"What was that thing?" he asked the stranger.

"A dementor," said the stranger, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the guards of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him. The stranger crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…”

He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" said Hermione, watching Harry anxiously.

"I don't get it… What happened?" said Harry, wiping more sweat off his face.

"Well… that thing, the dementor, stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face)... and you… you-” Hermione tried to explain albeit nervously.

"I thought you were having a fit or something," Ron finished for Hermione, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching…”

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…”

Hermione had pointed out the stranger’s name earlier. Specifically the nametag on his case.

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did YOU feel how cold it got when it came in?"

“I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again…”

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.

"But didn't any of you… fall off your seats?" said Harry awkwardly.

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though…”

Harry didn't understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…”

 Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry didn't ask how Professor Lupin knew his name.

"Fine," he muttered, embarrassed.

They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"All right, you three?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Harry felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars.

Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out.

As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear.

"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottorn telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously. "Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron, whose jaw was clenched.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" said Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

“Malfoy,” said a familiar Liverpudlian voice from behind Draco, “I suggest you move along.”

“You,” Draco hissed as he spun around to see John Constantine with his usual grumpy expression.

“Your fiery self doesn’t scare me anymore, Constantine,” Draco sneered after her quickly altered his mood.

“I really don’t give a damn whether it does or not,” John said calmly, “I’ll still kick your ass with or without you shitting your pants.”

“Why you insignificant-” began Draco as his face contorted with rage. Nobody noticed, but Draco was slowly pulling out his wand.

"Is there a problem?" said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage.

Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Oh, no… er… Professor," then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.

John stayed behind a bit as he stared at Lupin for a second as Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the three of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both! You too Constantine!"

Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. John also turned around, but not with surprise. He just rolled his eyes at what the teacher was going to gripe at him about now. For all he knew, she was mad about him not changing into his robes. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong.

"There's no need to look so worried… I just want a word in MY office," she told them. "Move along there, Weasley."

Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry, Hermione, and John away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.

Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Harry and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter."

Before Harry could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in.

Harry felt himself going red in the face. It was bad enough that he'd passed out, or whatever he had done, without everyone making all this fuss.

"I'm fine," he said, "I don't need anything.”

"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring this and bending down to stare closely at him. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall.

They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

“Dementor?” John asked as his face paled.

"Setting dementors around a school,” she muttered ignoring John, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate.”

"I'm not delicate!" said Harry crossly.

"Of course you're not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse.

"What does he need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"I'm fine!" said Harry, jumping up. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if he had to go to the hospital wing was torture.

"Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry's eyes.

"I've already had some," said Harry. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

"Are you sure you feel alright, Potter?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"Yes, "said Harry.

"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

Harry went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself He had to wait only a few minutes; then Hermione emerged looking very happy about something. However, McGonagall and Constantine didn’t follow.

**With John…**

Professor McGonagall didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, she walked towards her desk and picked something up.

“Mr. Constantine,” McGonagall said as she turned around with her hand holding a box of some kind, “As you are well aware, we will be housing a student from the Beauxbaton Academy of Magic.”

“So,” John said uninterested, “What has that got to do with me?”

“The Headmaster has informed me that you performed an exorcism on this student,” McGonagall continued.

“I’ve performed many,” John said dryly.

“Yes,” McGonagall said with a hint of irritation in her tone, “However, this girl belonged to a rich family. The girl’s mother has requested that you have the role of her bodyguard among other things. Especially since the school is currently surrounded by Dementors. Apparently, the mother trusts you more than the teachers.”

Knowing that whatever he might say will just annoy McGonagall more than she is, John elected to stay quiet.

“And this is why the Headmaster has requested that I hand you this,” McGonagall finished as she handed John the box.

John raised an eyebrow before he opened it, and what he saw inside were a pair of rings. In fact they looked like wedding rings.

“I don’t…” John said confused.

“Those rings are enchanted to enable two people to keep track of one another,” McGonagall explained, “They also allow one to teleport to the other if he or she is in any sort of danger.”

“Oh yeah,” John grunted to himself, “Just another way to bind me to Fleur.”

“One more thing,” McGonagall added, “The girl is to stay in your house.”

**A little later, with Harry…**

Professor McGonagall and John finally exited the room, and the four of them made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall.

It was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering in the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair, was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

"Oh," said Hermione softly, "we've missed the Sorting!"

“Good,” grunted John, “I’m not a big fan of the sorting in all honesty. Too annoying.”

New students at Hogwarts were sorted into Houses by trying on the sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin). Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. John on the other hand headed towards the Ravenclaw table… where Fleur was sitting as there was a spot open between her and Anne. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the dementor traveled that fast?

He and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron, who had saved them seats.

"What was all that about?" he muttered to Harry.

Harry started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off.

Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose. He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that wasn't why Harry respected him. You couldn't help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the first time since the dementor had entered the train compartment.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the dementors guarding the school.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises… or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harry, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.”

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. it was beyond anger: it was loathing. Harry knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by-”

Dumbledore stopped talking as an owl quickly dropped a letter into his hand before flying off again. With a frown, Dumbledore opened the letter and read its content. His eyes suddenly sparkled as a smile appeared on his face for a second. 

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore said as he placed the letter on the table, “The Care of Magical Creatures teaching post will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties. However, an old student and friend of mine has also accepted the position. His name is Newt Scamander, and he’s one of the best men I knew."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Harry leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.

“Also, Hogwarts will be housing a temporary transfer student this year,” Dumbledore said, “If you look to the Ravenclaw table next to our resident exorcist, you’ll see her. Her name is Fleur Delacour, and she is to be treated like you’d want yourself to be treated.”

“Any harm to her,” Dumbledore said as his eyes flicked to Draco, “will be given to you by her bodyguard with my permission.”

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore in a cheery tone. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Harry, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could reach and began to eat.

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard, so it’s probably a good thing another person will be teaching the Care of Magical Creatures class as well. Hagrid had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been Harry, Ron, Hermione, and John who had cleared Hagrid's name last year. Even the Halliwells had helped… though they didn’t seem to be here this year.

At long last, when the last morsel of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the teachers' table.

"All down ter you three," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them, "Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough… It's what I always wanted…”

Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower's large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?"

"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"

"Oh no," said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Harry climbed the spiral stairs with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.

**With John…**

John sat in the Ravenclaw common room in front of the fireplace and stared into the orange flickering flames.

_ How did I go from amateur exorcist to being a bloody bodyguard in just two years? _ John asked himself internally. However, he couldn’t get out of it, so with a sigh he stood up and walked towards the door to the girl dormitories. He knocked on it and someone opened it slowly.

“Wrong dorm,” said the asian girl John saw his first year, “The boys are in the opposite direction.”

“I’m looking for Fleur,” John grunted, “Tell her to meet me in the common room.”

“Okay,” the asian girl said after a minute of regarding John who was still in his casual clothes.

At that, John headed back to the common room and sat down in a comfy chair with the box McGonagall gave him placed on the coffee table in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "wedding ring" bit is just to make john much more uncomfortable about being Fleur's bodyguard. It's also to spark even more jealousy in Anne. also, i couldn't think of any other of appearance for them.


	3. Talons and Tea Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Divination, a Newt appears, and a normal first day of school more or less.

Chapter 3: Talons and Tea Leaves

 

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore him," said Hermione, who was right behind Harry, "Just ignore him, it's not worth it…”

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!"

Harry dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing them over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those dementors…”

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.

"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking… They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the first game of the season, remember?"

The only time Harry and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had come off worse. Feeling slightly more cheerful, Harry helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes.

Hermione was examining her new schedule.

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

**With John…**

John was less than happy as he had to play bodyguard to Fleur, and that ring he had to give Fleur made her think he was proposing. After John had explained the ring, she was understanding and they both got glances as other students noticed the rings on their fingers. John didn’t like feeling awkward, so the attention he was receiving was less than awesome.

“If only they didn’t look like freaking wedding bands,” John grumbled in annoyance as he hexed an annoying Slytherin that was teasing them with images drawn into the air.

“Even though I’m used to receiving a lot of attention from people,” Fleur admitted, “I too am less than thrilled to be receiving similar attention ‘Ere.”

**Later…**

Harry, Ron, and Hermione finished their breakfasts hastily, said good-bye to Fred and George, and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. Of course, since John was going to their class with them he didn’t hesitate to push Malfoy’s face into his freshly cooked eggs as he passed the git. The shouts of laughter followed them into the entrance hall.

The journey through the castle to the North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn’t taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside the North Tower before.

“There’s… got… to… be… a… shortcut,” Ron panted as they climbed the seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

“I think it’s this way,” Hermione said as she peered down the empty passage to the right.

“Can’t be,” Ron countered, “That’s south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake out the window…”

Harry was watching the painting. A fat, dapple-grey pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. Harry was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit another, but he always enjoyed watching it. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armor clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

“Aha!” he yelled, seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione, “What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!”

“Shut it, you bloody painting!” shouted the Liverpudlian voice of John Constantine.

“My liege,” the knight immediately said as he bowed before John. His rage had also appeared to vanish entirely as well. “I had not realized you associated with these vagrants.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” John growled as he and Fleur came to a stop next to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, “don’t bow to me.”

“My liege?” Hermione and Fleur asked with a tone of amusement while Ron and Harry just stared at John.

“The idiot started calling me that not long after the chamber crisis,” John glowered.

“Ooookay,” Hermione said to change the subject, “You don’t happen to know the way to the North Tower, do you?”

“Aye,” John grunted as he began walking, “just ignore the tosser and follow me.”

“My liege!” the knight yelled after John, “You must not go that way! A terrible curse has fallen upon it!”

John closed his eyes tightly as he came to an abrupt stop, and eventually, he turned back towards the knight.

“What kind of curse?” John asked.

“All those that have preceded you have run screaming in the opposite direction,” the knight replied, “and I have only just returned from guiding them safely to their destination.”

“Hmm,” John merely said as he turned towards the direction he had headed.

John pulled out a pair of glasses that had a red lens over the right eye and a blue one over the left. He put them on, but when he didn’t find what he was looking for he put them away.

“Liceat mihi visus ab omnibus quibus salvus,” John muttered to himself into his hands before he rubbed them across his eyes. He then saw what looked like webbing filling up the hallway to the brim. However, the strings’ color changed multiple times and at random intervals.

“Bugger,” John said, “Somebody cursed the hallway with a hallucination spell.”

“Phantasma,” Hermione immediately said, “That curse causes people to see and hear things. It has driven several wizards and witches mad in the past.”

“I ‘ave never ‘eard of this spell being used to curse an ‘allway before,” Fleur spoke up.

“That’s because only people with a select talent for hallucinations can do it,” John said grimly, “We need to quarantine this hallway immediately. Knight, send word to the Headmaster and the rest of the staff.”

“How are we going to get to class though?” Hermione asked.

“Fine,” John grunted, “Knight, escort them and Fleur to the class safely. I’ll go have a chat with Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, myself. I’ll meet up later. Potter, you and Hermione have my permission to hex anyone that does anything less than friendly to Fleur.”

"A quest!" The knight exclaimed with glee. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword a fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"

And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

They left John behind and hurried after the knight along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.

Puffing loudly, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Fleur climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you require noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

“The paintings in Beauxbaton are not nearly this odd,” Fleur remarked.

“He’s probably unique,” Ron shrugged, “Haven’t met any other with his personality.”

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

"'Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher,"' Harry read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you," said Ron, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first. He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. It didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. it was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Ron appeared at Harry's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron asked.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Harry's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you… Books can take you only so far in this field…”

At these words, both Harry and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball -- if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our numbers will leave us forever." 

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading -- it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear" -- she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up -- "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind… thank you.”

When Harry and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Right," said Ron as they both opened their books on pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Harry. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him feel sleepy and stupid.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom.

“You will become attached to a newt?” Fleur said confused as she looked between the book and Hermione’s teacup.

“This… this is ridiculous,” Hermione said frustrated as she couldn’t make heads or tails of it, “Whoever came up with reading the future from tea leaves was high as a kite.”

"Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross…” Harry consulted Unfogging the Future after attempting to pull himself together. "That means you're going to have 'trials and suffering' -- sorry about that -- but there's a thing that could be the sun… hang on… that means 'great happiness'… so you're going to suffer but be very happy…”

"You need your Inner Eye tested if you ask me," said Ron, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

"My turn…” Ron peered into Harry's teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. "There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat," he said. "Maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic…”

He turned the teacup the other way up.

"But this way it looks more like an acorn… What's that?" He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. "'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some… and there's a thin, here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal… yeah, if that was its head… it looks like a hippo… no, a sheep…”

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter.

 "Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that, " said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."

Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…”

“I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

"The skull… danger in your path, my dear…”

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy… my poor, dear boy no it is kinder not to say… no… don't ask me…”

"What is it, Professor?" asked Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "You have the Grim."

"The what?" said Harry.

He could tell that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen -- the worst omen -- of death!"

Harry's stomach lurched. That dog on the cover of Death Omens in Flourish and Blotts -the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent… Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

“What a load of rubbish,” said a Liverpudlian voice from the trapdoor. They all looked to see John Constantine standing there leaning against a nearby wall.

“It is not rubbish, dear boy,” Trelawney said defensively and quickly because divination is her life… quite literally.

“Then why don’t you prove you’re not a person that belongs in a nuthouse,” John challenged.

“You…” Trelawney said when she looked at Fleur, “Give me your teacup your partner failed to read.”

Fleur shrugged and handed the teacup to Trelawney. She then widened her eyes and looked between Fleur and John.

“This says that the king of dragons shall make the Veela Queen’s descendant his betrothed,” Trelawney said victoriously. The only one affected by it was John as he freaked out in his mind, but of course, Fleur could sense it and so she too was affected. She was mainly confused as to why John was freaking out.

“Well,” John said after he recovered, “Why don’t you go back to teaching class. I’ll stand right here.”

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future." Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.

"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not, please do shut up!" said Harry, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes… please pack away your things…”

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune is yours. Oh, and dear" -- she pointed at Neville -- "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fleur, and John descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stairs in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.

Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. He hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes. 

"Really, what has gotten into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and --"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning.

"There is no need to say anymore, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," said Harry, finally.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues --"

Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney --"

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.

However, Professor McGonagall had John and Fleur stay behind.

“Constantine,” McGonagall said once everyone had left the room.

“Yes?” John asked.

“According to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Professor McGonagall said as she sat down at her desk, “You and Fleur both recognized that curse in the hallway. The curse has been dealt with, and so the Headmaster has asked me to reward both of you in a small way.”

“In what way?” John asked not caring.

“Open these,” McGonagall said as she flicked her wand and two boxes appeared. Both John and Fleur opened their boxes, and Fleur gasped. Inside her box was a diamond necklace that was formed the shape of Hogwarts’ logo but also had a devil’s trap inside. Inside John’s box was a badge. It had a devil’s trap etched onto it with  _ Head Exorcist _ etched above the devil’s trap. Etched under it was  _ All Access Granted _ .

“I’m not thrilled at this reward,” McGonagall said as she looked at John, “but I realize that you are a huge reason why the students are safe. Just don’t expect me to treat you any different from the others.”

“And that necklace,” McGonagall said with a genuine smile towards Fleur, “prevents demon possession as well. It also serves as a way for you to go between your home and here whenever you want.”

“You two may head to lunch now,” McGonagall said as she looked down at her desk.

**Later, in the Great Hall…**

John and Fleur eventually arrived in the Great Hall, and when they did they headed towards the Ravenclaw table. They saw Ritchie, Anne, and Phoebe already there waiting for them. Fleur now had her enchanted necklace on, and John his badge attached to his belt. He didn’t feel like poking a couple of holes in his clothes.

“You two sure took a while,” Ritchie said as he scooted over to let Fleur sit where he was.

“Professor McGonagall wanted to have a chat,” John grunted as he sat down next to Anne and across from Phoebe.

“Nice necklace, Fleur,” Anne said as a way to fish for information.

“Oh, merci,” Fleur smiled, “McGonagall handed it to me as a reward for helping identify that hallway’s curse.”

“So,” Phoebe asked as she looked at John, “If Fleur got that, what did you get? A necklace to match hers?”

“Hardly,” snorted John as he produced his badge and placed it on the table.

“Hogwarts is changing,” Ritchie sighed as he stared at the badge.

“How is that bad?” Anne asked as she looked at Ritchie.

**Meanwhile, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione…**

"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start.

"Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "You haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'.”

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a stray," said Hermione calmly.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's… that's bad," he said. "My… my uncle Bilius saw one and… and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

“What about Phoebe's premonition last year?” Ron demanded, “ya know, the one that saved Harry and Ginny?!”

“Premonitions and divination are completely different,” Hermione said simply.

“Besides,” Hermione added coolly, “You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep."

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura!” Ron retorted, “You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

She snatched up her bag and stalked away.

Ron frowned after her.

"What's she talking about?" he said to Harry. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

**Later…**

Harry was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. He, Ron, and Hermione met with John and Fleur along the way. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when he spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Harry was quite sure he knew what they were talking about.

Hagrid and another man were both waiting for the class at the door of Hagrid’s hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start. The man next to him wore a blue jacket, a yellow vest over a white button-down shirt, bowtie, black dress pants, and brown hiking boots. In his hand was a brown briefcase.

“Sorry, Picket,” the man quietly said to something in his left hand, “I don’t think it’s wise for you to come out today. You remember the last time a Malfoy saw you?”

“There you go,” the man quietly said as he placed something in his coat’s inside pocket, “Maybe next time.”

“C' mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; Harry had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last him a lifetime. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

“You sure it’s a good idea for a first lesson, Hagrid?” the man asked quietly with a serious expression.

“Oh, it’ll be fine, Newt,” Hagrid said dismissively just as quietly, “Buckbeak and his herd wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I hope you’re right,” the man now known as Newt said concerned still quiet. Not necessarily for the children, but for Buckbeak and Hagrid. He always did like animals over humans after all, and Hagrid loves animals as much as he does so he’s one of the few non-animals that Newt has ever gotten along with.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it -- make sure yeh can see -- now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books --"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Harry, had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

“Stroke the bloody spines,” John said as he pulled out his monster book that wasn’t even trying to chomp on him.

“That’s right,” Newt spoke up, “What he said. What’s your name?”

“John Constantine,” John replied.

“You’re one of the brightest I’ve ever met,” Newt said impressed, “not many would be able to figure that out without help.”

When Newt and Hagrid saw that nobody had moved a muscle to stroke their books’ spines, Hagrid sighed.

“Except for Mr. Constantine,” Newt said to Hagrid, “nobody has even bothered to stroke the books’ spines. What gave you the impression that it was a good idea?”

"I -- I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Newt after he demonstrated how to open them. He had borrowed Hermione’s book first.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

“Shut your gob, Malfoy!” John snarled at the pompous git, “If you don’t, I’ll shut it for ya!”

Malfoy was about to retort, but John’s eyes suddenly glowed a fiery color for a split second. That silenced Malfoy right up as he now had nothing but fear on his face.

“John,” Fleur said concerned as she looked at him, “You’re smoking.”

“What?” John asked as he looked at her. He then caught a whiff of smoke and grunted.

“Great,” John grunted as he pulled out his wand to stop himself smoking, “I thought I had gotten control of that.”

Once he was no longer smoking, he returned his attention to Hagrid and Newt. Unknown to John, Newt was staring at him with interest.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so -- so yeh've got yer books an' -- an' - - now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on…”

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him-”

“Maybe he will,” Newt said as he stared emotionlessly at Draco, “but he was fired from being a School governor.”

“That won’t stop him from getting rid of the moron,” Draco boasted.

“Your father may be rich,” Newt said calmly, “but he has no control over Hagrid’s station as a teacher. Not any more than I do the weather.”

Malfoy opened his mouth to speak but was unable to when somebody else made themselves known.

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them was a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Harry had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

“Are those Gryphons?” Harry asked confused.

“No,” John shook his head, “While there are some similarities, those are most definitely NOT Gryphons. Griffins have lion-like bodies, and these creatures have horse-like parts of them.”

“John’s righ’,” Hagrid smiled, “These are called Hippogriffs. Bea’iful, aren’ they?”

Harry could sort of understand what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was, half horse, half-bird, you started to appreciate the hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feathers to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer --"

No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and John, however, approached the fence cautiously. 

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs are, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Harry had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

“You three,” Newt called to those specific Slytherins, “If you want to come out of this unharmed, pay attention.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Malfoy said without really listening.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued once the talk ceased. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt.”

"Right -- who wants ter go first?"

“Actually,” Newt interjected, “I think I should demonstrate. I find that it’s always best for the teacher to risk one’s life first.”

“Very well then,” Hagrid nodded in agreement, “Watch Professor Scamander closely.”

“You can just call me, Newt,” Newt said without looking at them as he positioned himself in front of a yellow Hippogriff.

Hagrid untied one of the chains, pulled the yellow hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath.

Newt stood without blinking as he stared at the Hippogriff who stared back at him. Once the Hippogriff turned its head so one of its eyes could stare straight at Newt, he bowed slowly. Newt used the moment to blink and allow his eyes to recover from being open too long, and then he looked slowly back at the Hippogriff. It didn’t move a muscle as it stared at him. Newt began thinking he had to back up, but that’s when the Hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

“That’s a good girl,” Newt said as he straightened himself and walked forward to pet the animal’s beak.

“You see tha’?” Hagrid asked his class, “That’s how to do it proper!”

“So,” Newt called from next to the Hippogriff, “who wants to go next?”

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione had misgivings. John was the only one that stayed put. The hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

“No one?” Hagrid asked with a pleading expression, “John?”

“They may not frighten me,” John said bluntly, “But, I’m not about to have a go. If I get any closer, they will riot.”

“What makes you say that?” Hagrid frowned.

“It’s alright, Hagrid,” Newt said quickly, “He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to.”

"I'll do it," said Harry suddenly which surprised everyone except John and Hagrid. The former, because he knew Harry didn’t want to hurt Hagrid’s feelings. The latter, because he was pleased one of his closest friends was willing to attempt.

There was an intake of breath from behind him, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, "Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!"

Harry ignored them. He climbed over the paddock fence. 

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid. "Right then -- let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy now, Harry," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…”

Harry's eyes immediately began to water, but he didn't shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Harry... now, bow."

Harry didn't feel much like exposing the back of his neck to Buckbeak, but he did as he was told. He gave a short bow and then looked up.

The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right -- back away, now, Harry, easy does it.”

But then, to Harry's enormous surprise, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Harry!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right -- yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!" 

Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry moved slowly toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him!"

This was more than Harry had bargained for. He was used to a broomstick, but he wasn't sure a Hippogriff would be quite the same.

“Don’t worry,” Newt said as if reading Harry’s thoughts, “Hippogriffs always make sure that their riders stay safe on top of them.”

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that…”

Harry put his foot on the top of Buckbeak’s wing and hoisted himself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up. Harry wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of him was covered with feathers.

"Go on, then'" roared Hagrid, slapping the hippogriff's hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry, he just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Harry knew which one he preferred; the hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of him, catching him under his legs and making him feel he was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under his fingers and he didn't dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of his Nimbus Two Thousand, he now felt himself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.

Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Harry had been dreading; he leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling he was going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. He just managed to hold on and push himself straight again.

"Good work, Harry!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Harry's success, the rest of the class, excluding John, climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry and John watched.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful. John kept his eyes in Malfoy’s direction the entire time because he knew Malfoy would try and do something to ruin Hagrid’s career.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry to, hear him.

"I knew it must have been if Potter could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

“Oh, shut your gob,” John snarled as he suddenly appeared next to Draco.

“Oh, no,” Draco said both terrified and thinking quickly, “You and that beast are in cahoots, aren’t you?! Aren’t you?!”

John just responded by punching Draco’s lights out. As soon as Draco was unconscious, John immediately pulled out his wand and aimed it at Draco.

“I’d love to let you bleed to death,” John said, “but if that happens, Hagrid’s career will be ruined. That would mean you won, and I will never let you win.”

“Sana,” John said and suddenly. The wounds given by Buckbeak vanished. The only sign of Draco’s wounds were shredded bloody clothes and the blood on the ground.

“That’s an advanced spell,” Newt said impressed nearby.

“Not for me,” John said as he put his wand away.

“You might want to act as the creature’s lawyer,” John said as he turned away, “Malfoy’s father will do everything in his power to have that creature killed.”

“Good job, john,” Hagrid said as he picked Draco up, “but I still hav’ teh take ‘im up to the hospital wing.”

Hermione immediately ran to hold open the gate. As they passed, Harry saw that there whatever wound were on Malfoy's arm was indeed healed. There was also blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should fire him straight away!" said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Ron, and Hermione proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower. John and Fleur, on the other hand, headed towards the Ravenclaw common room.

"You think ‘e'll be alright?" Fleur asked nervously.

“Aye,” John grunted in disappointment, “That spell I used heals all bloody wounds. Madam Pomfrey will no doubt request I teach her the spell, as nobody else in the world knows it.”

"That was a really bad thing to ‘appen in ‘agrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" asked Fleur, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for ‘im…”

“Aye,” was John’s only reply.

**Later, in the evening…**

They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime. John just wanted to beat the Slytherins. Fleur was hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there. That’s when they noticed Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Fleur elected to sit at the Gryffindor table this time, and so John had to follow suit. 

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either. John felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and then looked to see the Slytherins having arrived.

John turned back to the Gryffindor table and saw that Harry was watching the Slytherins. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Harry was sure they were cooking up their version of how Malfoy had been injured.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily.

Fleur and John went up to the crowded Ravenclaw common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but Fleur kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.

"There's a light on in ‘agrid's window," Fleur said suddenly.

John sighed and looked down at his muggle watch.

"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early…” John said sensing Fleur’s desire to check on the half-giant.

Fleur immediately put her things away and headed out of the common room with John a step behind her. They were glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they didn't want to deal with the stares and the teasing that they usually have to.

The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. On the way there, they met up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had similar thoughts to Fleur. When they reached Hagrid's hut, they knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."

Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap. One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus.

"'Spect it's a record," he said thickly when he recognized them. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."

"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" gasped Hermione.

"Not yet," said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. "But's only a matter o' time, i' n't it, after Malfoy…”

"How is he?" said Ron as they all sat down. "It wasn't serious, was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey confirmed John had healed him," said Hagrid dully, "but he's sayin' it's still agony… covered in bandages that Pomfrey didn’t give him… moanin’…”

"He's faking it," said John at once. "I healed the bug’s wound entirely. Used the strongest healing spell to do so. Malfoy will go out of his bloody way to milk it for all it's worth and try to ruin you."

"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left hippogriffs fer later… done flobberworms or summat… Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lessons all my fault…”

"It's all Malfoy's fault, Hagrid!" said Hermione earnestly.

"We're witnesses," said Harry. "You said hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore the truth of what happened."

"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," said Ron.

“Yeh, I know tha’,” Hagrid said, “but the problem is, everyone heard Newt ask if I was certain. S’pose I should’ a gone with at least bowtruckles.”

“That’s why I advised Newt to act as the feathered beast’s lawyer,” John said reluctantly.

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed Harry, Ron, and John and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

"Ah, maybe she's right," said Hagrid, letting go of Harry, Ron, and John who staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash.

"What's he done?" asked Harry nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard.

"Stuck his head in the water barrel," said Hermione, putting the tankard away.

Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.

"That's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them all, “Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really --”

Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry as though he'd only just realized he was there.

"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly that all of them, save John, jumped a foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN, YOU FOUR! LETTIN' HIM!"

Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door.

"C' mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter school, an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you like the story leave a kudos. If you want notifications to future updates, subscribe. If you have any questions, put them down in the comments and I'll try to answer them. You can also use the comments to say your opinions of them if they're kind. Nay-sayers are NOT welcome.


	4. The Boggart in the Wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's greatest fear is revealed.

Chapter 4: The Boggart in the Wardrobe

 

Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle. John immediately centered his gaze on Draco and didn’t waver from staring at the brat.

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.

Harry, John, and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said "settle down" if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. He would’ve also taken points from Ravenclaw house as well because he hates John much more than he hates Harry. Unfortunately, Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generality favored his House's students above all others.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. He was as far away from John as he could be though. John must still terrify the git.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm…”

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.

Ron went brick red.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked across the table.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots." 

Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly so that they were all different sizes.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

“Et usque ad radices!” John quickly muttered behind his hands.

Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, and frowned. He proceeded to turn around and walk off. Draco was taken aback by that and when he looked down, he saw the roots were now even with one another. He then looked up at John who was busy working on his potion, but he wasn’t fooled. He had a gut feeling that John had intervened with his attempt at bullying Ron.

“Sir,” Malfoy said loudly, “I need this shrivelfig skinned.”

“Constantine,” Snape said looking up with absolute hate toward John, “Skin them for Malfoy.”

John frowned, but he did as requested anyway. However, he didn’t do it the traditional way. Instead, he pulled out an item that looked like tweezers. In five seconds flat, every shrivelfig at their table had been skinned. Draco glared at John angrily.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.

“Piss off,” John said as he returned to his potion.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury-"

“I healed that injury, Malfoy,” John said darkly, “and I return it just as easily. Unless you want to be injured for real… shut your goddamn gob.”

“Father's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this,” Draco paused as he gave a huge, fake sigh, "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"So that's why you're putting it on," said Harry, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger. "To try to get Hagrid fired."

“You want me to return the injury…” John realized, “That way your father will win…”

"Well," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me.”

“Looks like you’re not as dumb as you look, traitor," Malfoy added to John.

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned-

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see.

"Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?" 

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right-"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Snape coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.

"Help me!" he moaned to Hermione.

"Hey, Harry," said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales, "have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning… they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"Where?" said Harry and Ron quickly. On the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely. John also directed his attention to Seamus. While he had been believing the same as everyone else concerning Black, something didn’t sit right with him. Why wait three years to go after Harry instead of doing so the moment he resurfaced in the Wizarding World? He’s been thinking about that a lot lately.

"Not too far from here," said Seamus, who looked excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here…” Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. "What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?"

"Thinking Of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry offhandedly.

Malfoys thin mouth was curving in a mean smile.

"Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" asked Ron roughly.

"Don't you know, Potter?" breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed.

"Know what?"

Malfoy let out a low, sneering laugh.

"Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck," he said. "Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

“And then you’d either die or run with your tail between your legs, you boastful git,” John said rolling his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" said Harry angrily, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's…”

Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth so that Snape wouldn't see. Harry and Ron packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner.

"What did Malfoy mean?" Harry muttered to Ron as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle's mouth "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me… yet.”

"He's making it up," said Ron savagely. "He's trying to make you do something stupid…”

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.

"Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering. "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. John just had his usual grim expression. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry was still thinking about what Malfoy had said, while Ron was seething about Snape.

"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right?!” Ron said angrily, “Why didn't You lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!"

“If she had, Snape would’ve taken more points,” John said having caught up with them, “Everyone knows that Neville’s an idiot. Genius in herbology, but an idiot in everything else.”

Hermione didn't answer. Ron looked around. 

"Where is she?"

Harry and John turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.

"She was right behind us," said Ron, frowning.

Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and disappeared.

“There she is," said Harry.

Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.

"How did you do that?" said Ron.

"What?" said Hermione, joining them.

"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

"What?" Hermione looked slightly confused. "Oh… I had to go back for something. Oh no-"

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Harry wasn't surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her.

"You know how many subjects I'm taking," said Hermione breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"

"But…” Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers, "You haven’t got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"Oh yes," said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. 

“I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.

"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?” Ron asked Harry.

“I know I do,” John said staring after her, “and I am going to find out what she’s hiding.”

“Hey,” Ron said realizing something, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a-” John began bluntly.

“He means Fleur,” Harry interrupted.

“She needed to go back to the French Embassy for a bit,” John replied, “She’ll be back in time for DADA.”

**Later, in the DADA classroom…**

Professor Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts before unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw were Geeves and Peeves the school Poltergeists, who were floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum. Peeves had been released from the vial John had trapped him in, which John considered to be a bad idea. Now they had two insane poltergeists to deal with.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song. Geeves sang along.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves and Geeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin-"

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves and Geeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get into his brooms."

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, the poltergeists. However, they paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

“Why is Geeves still around?” Ron asked confused but quietly, “When we first saw him, it was after Peeves was captured.”

“Once a poltergeist rears its ugly head,” John said grimly, “it doesn’t ever leave willingly.”

“One was bad,” Seamus muttered, “but two… that’s just…”

"This is a useful little spell,” he told the class over his shoulder attracting their attention, "Please watch closely."

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "Waddiwasi!”

He then aimed it at Peeves and Geeves both.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down both Peeves and Geeves’ left nostrils; they whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing. The wad of gum hadn’t even split in half. They were now connected by several stubborn strings of gum.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?”

They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

"Inside, please," said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway, he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin, "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks… I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.”

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.”

"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?" 

Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but Harry had a go.

"Er… because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" 

"Precisely," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake… tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.”

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.”

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" said the class together.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.

"Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."

“Professor Snape,” Lupin chuckled along with the class, “yes, he frightens all. And  I believe you live with your grandmother?”

"Er… yes," said Neville nervously, "But… I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

“No,” Lupin shook his head before he glanced back at the wardrobe, “It won’t. I want you to picture her clothes. Only her clothes very clearly in your mind.”

“She carries a red handbag,” Neville said slowly.

“We don’t need to hear,” Lupin said shaking his head, “As long as you see it. We’ll see it.”

Neville nodded not entirely understanding.

“Now,” Lupin said, “when I open that wardrobe, here’s what I want you to do.”

He then walked towards Neville and whispered something in his ear. The entire class strained their ears, but they couldn’t hear anything.

“Can you do that?” Lupin asked in his normal voice. Neville nodded.

“Yes,” Lupin said as he pulled out his wand, “Wand at the ready.”

“One,” Lupin counted as he checked to see if Neville had pulled out his wand, “Two. Three.”

He then flicked his wand and the wardrobe’s door suddenly opened. They all widened their eyes as they saw Snape exit the wardrobe and striding towards Neville.

“Think,” Lupin said behind Neville, “Neville, think.”

“Riddikulus!” said Neville as he flicked his wand at ‘Snape’.

Suddenly, Snape’s black clothes transformed into a long dress, a fox-fur scarf around the neck, and a tall hat with a stuffed vulture on top. In his hand was a big red handbag. That caused everyone to roar with laughter. Even the Slytherins burst out in laughter. Draco didn’t but he had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“Wonderful, Neville,” Lupin said laughing, “wonderful. To the back Neville.”

“Form a line,” Lupin said as he walked towards a record player, “Form a line. I want everyone to picture what they fear the most and turn it into something…”

“Funny,” Lupin finished as he turned on the record player.

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising…

"Riddikulus!" cried Parvati.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

As soon as Seamus walked forward, there was a loud crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face -- a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Harry's head stand on end…

“Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

Crack! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then… crack! It became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before… crack! It had become a single, bloody eyeball.

“It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there!"

Dean was now at the front of the line.

Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"Riddikulus!" yelled Dean.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

“Excellent!” Lupin shouted.

“Ron, you’re next,” Lupin added when Ron didn’t move.

Ron slowly walked forward as he didn’t want to do this.

Crack!

Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Harry thought Ron had frozen. Then…

"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron.

Suddenly, the spider somehow had roller skates on its feet. It began frantically trying to stay upright. However, as soon as John was at the front of the line… it vanished in a loud crack.

Now it was a balding man in a priest’s uniform. In his hand was a bottle of alcohol and in his other were prayer beads with a cross at the end. He was glaring furiously at John and he was unsteady on his feet. Harry noticed that John wasn’t doing anything. For John… that’s abnormal. He’s usually the first to react, and would normally deal with this quite easily. John just stood there as the man walked drunkenly towards John. Lupin looked up and grew concerned as John had genuine terror on his face. John was so afraid he couldn’t do anything.

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward to place himself in front of John. Just as the man had raised his arm with the alcohol bottle it vanished in a loud crack.

 For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "Riddikulus!" almost lazily.

It suddenly turned into a balloon that suddenly flew around uncontrollably, and as it flew back towards the wardrobe Lupin flicked his wand which caused the door to open just enough to allow the boggart to fly in. As soon as it was in, the wardrobe locked.

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone… Let me See… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart… and five each to Hermione and Harry."

"But I didn't do anything," said Harry.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Harry, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. Professor Lupin had ended the class before Harry could have a go at the boggart. He wasn’t overly disappointed, but still. Harry stopped once he realized that John hadn’t moved an inch. John was still staring where the Boggart had been.

“Don’t worry about him, Harry,” Lupin said when he saw that Harry was lagging behind, “I’ll see to him. Go on.”

Harry reluctantly left the room, but as he did, he noticed that Fleur was the only other person not leaving. She had a concerned expression on her face.

“Hello,” Lupin said when he noticed Fleur, “Can I help you, and what time did you get here?”

“Just now,” Fleur replied, “I ‘ad a feeling something was wrong, and I sort of teleported here.”

“Oh, yes,” Lupin said realizing who she was, “You’re Fleur Delacour. I’m Remus Lupin. Nice to finally meet you.”

“What ‘appened?” Fleur asked as she walked towards John slowly.

“A boggart,” Lupin replied as he walked back to John, “I don’t know why, but his reaction to the boggart was severe. He just froze. I have never seen anyone else do that. Ron Weasley was close, but even he didn’t freeze.”

“He was terrified,” Fleur said, “and he still is. I can feel it.”

“John,” Lupin said as he stared at him, “it's over now. The boggart’s back in the wardrobe.”

When John didn’t respond, Lupin frowned out of concern. He and Fleur just stood there in silence for what felt like minutes.

“I think we need to get the headmaster,” Lupin said finally, “Whatever it is, it's clearly psychological.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Fleur said, and Lupin nodded feeling that it was best John wasn’t left alone.

“You can use some chairs if you want,” Lupin said as he headed towards the staff room’s exit, “I may be a while.”

**Days later…**

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

"Look at the state of his robes," Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. "He dresses like our old house-elf."

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first.

After boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy. water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds. 

Neither John nor Fleur had been seen for days. According to Lupin, John had been exempted from any Hogwarts classes due to something he had to do away from school. Fleur wasn’t enrolled in the school, so it wasn’t surprising that she also had gone MIA. Besides, now that she could go back and forth between Hogwarts and wherever she’s staying she can just stay at home most of the time except for classes. However, with Fleur unable to concentrate due to John’s condition she was also exempted. Anne was less than thrilled at how close John and Fleur seemed to be getting. However, her concern for John outweighed her jealousy.

Harry only wished he was as happy with some of his other classes. Worst of all was Potions. Snape was in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever.

Harry was also growing to dread the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at him. He couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunchtimes and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed.

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why would anyone bother looking after them?" said Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' throats.

“Their mucus can be used for potions,” said Professor Scamander as he passed by when the students were preparing to head for Hogwarts, “Not many to be fair, but the potions they’re used for can be essential to an Auror’s survival. My brother was an Auror and he was poisoned once. Only a specific potion that requires the mucus of a flobberworm could save his life.”

Ron immediately looked disgusted at that which made Newt chuckle.

At the start of October, however, Harry had something else to occupy him, something so enjoyable it more than made up for his unsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting on Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season. John and fleur had also returned, but John didn’t really do much except get private lessons with Remus Lupin. Specifically centered on dealing with whatever PTSD he acquired from when he lived with his dad, but only Remus and John knew that. Fleur and Anne became friendlier, sort of. In reality, Anne wanted to find out what about Fleur appealed to John so much.

There were seven people on a Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, soccer-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot-high hoops at each end of the field; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls that zoomed around trying to attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goalposts, and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance… my last chance… to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them, "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it." 

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world… injuries… then the tournament getting called off last year,” Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the best-ruddy-team-in-the-school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint in his eye. "We've got three superb Chasers."

Wood pointed at Alicia Spinner, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.

"We've got two unbeatable Beaters." 

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," said George.

"Spanking good Keeper," said Fred.

"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing…”

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

"Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" said Angelina.

"Definitely," said Harry.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Harry's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happened?" he asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween." 

"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed Harry through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Harry threw himself into a chair beside Ron, his high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read his mind.

"Harry, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

“Not likely,” said the voice of Chas as he suddenly appeared next to them. He had gained a fair amount of weight while he was gone, and it was all muscle. He had also grown quite a lot. He was a little taller than John now. “Black escaped Azkaban. He’ll be able to avoid any authorities and even the Dementors.”

“So, you’re Chas,” Prue said from nearby as she looked him up and down, “I heard quite a bit about you.”

"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron feeling uncomfortable just by how Prue was staring at Chas. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages-"

"Ron!" said Hermione. "Harry's supposed to stay in school-"

"He can't be the only third-year left behind," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry-"

"Yeah, I think I will," said Harry, making up his mind.

“He won’t be,” Chas spoke up.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked confused.

“John’s not going either,” Chas said, “Not only is his legal guardian a jerk, but he’s a muggle that hates magic. Hogsmeade being full of magic would immediately put him off. Also, John avoids him as much as possible. Why else do you think he went to stay at your place after our first year, Ron?”

“And after the second year,” Ron said realizing Chas was right.

“According to Phoebe,” Prue spoke up, “John actually has an exorcism job planned for around that time. She didn’t say what exactly, but John hasn’t told anyone. I don’t think he’s in the mood for friends right now. Whatever happened in the first class of Dark Arts Defense, clearly shook him completely.”

“I think he just needs to feel strong enough to handle a demon solo,” Chas suggested, “maybe that will help him handle his internal demons?”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment Crookshanks leaped lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth.

"Does he have to eat that in front of us?" said Ron, scowling.

“That’s my cue for bed,” Prue said disgustedly. She then walked off and stared at Chas as she did so. Chas couldn’t help but get red in the face.

"Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?" said Hermione.

Crookshanks; slowly chewed up the spider, his yellow eyes fixed insolently on Ron.

"Just keep him over there, that's all," said Ron irritably, turning back to his star chart. "1've got Scabbers asleep in my bag." 

Harry yawned. He wanted to go to bed, but he still had his star chart to complete. He pulled his bag toward him, took out parchment, ink, and quill, and started work.

"You can copy mine if you like," said Ron, labeling his last star with a flourish and shoving the chart toward Harry.

Hermione, who disapproved of copying, pursed her lips but didn't say anything. Crookshanks was still staring unblinkingly at Ron, flicking the end of his bushy tail. Then, without warning, he pounced.

"OI!" Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deep inside it and began tearing ferociously. "GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!"

Ron tried to pull the bag away from Crookshanks, but Crookshanks clung on, spitting and slashing.

"Ron, don't hurt him!" squealed Hermione; the whole common room was watching; Ron whirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top-

"CATCH THAT CAT' Ron yelled as Crookshanks freed himself from the remnants of the bag, sprang over the table, and chased after the terrified Scabbers.

George Weasley made a lunge for Crookshanks but missed; Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a halt, crouched low on his bandy legs, and started making furious swipes beneath it with his front paw.

Ron and Hermione hurried over; Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbers out by the tail.

"Look at him!" he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of her. "He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!" 

"Crookshanks doesn't understand it's wrong!" said Hermione, her voice shaking. "All cats chase rats, Ron!"

"There's something funny about that animal!" said Ron, who was trying to persuade a frantically wiggling Scabbers back into his pocket. "It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!"

"Oh, what rubbish," said Hermione impatiently. "Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else d'you think-”

"That cat's got it in for Scabbers!" said Ron, ignoring the people around him, who were starting to giggle. "And Scabbers was here first, and he's ill!" 

Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

“It’s like I was sent back in time,” Chas remarked. The last time he was in Hogwarts was when Ron and Hermione hated each other after all. Of course, they became friends after Harry and Ron saved her. However, he doesn’t know how much they’ve grown on a personal level due to being unable to go to Hogwarts for his second year. He had to go to Ilvermorny instead.

Ron was still in a bad mood with Hermione the next day. He barely talked to her all through Herbology, even though he, Harry, and Hermione were working together on the same puffapod.

"How's Scabbers?" Hermione asked timidly as they stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail.

"He's hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking, " said Ron angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor.

"Careful, Weasley, careful!" cried Professor Sprout as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes.

They had Transfiguration next. Harry, who had resolved to ask Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether he could go into Hogsmeade with the rest, joined the line outside the class trying to decide how he was going to argue his case. He was distracted, however, by a disturbance at the front of the line. 

Lavender Brown seemed to be crying. Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who was looking very serious.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" said Hermione anxiously as she, Harry, and Ron went to join the group.

"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh," said Hermione, "I'm sorry, Lavender." 

"I should have known!" said Lavender tragically. "You know what day it is?"

"Er-"

"The sixteenth of October! 'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!' Remember? She was right, she was right!"

The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, "You-you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well, not necessarily by a fox," said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, "but I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn't l?"

"Oh," said Hermione. She paused again. Then…

"Was Binky an old rabbit?"

"N-no!" sobbed Lavender. "H-he was only a baby!"

Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender's shoulders.

"But then, why would you dread him dying?" said Hermione.

Parvati glared at her.

“She didn’t,” said a Liverpudlian accent, “she’s just one of those patsies that fall for a Carny’s tricks.”

They turned to see John Constantine standing there in his muggle clothes, and he looked like he hadn’t had a wink of sleep which was proved by the circles under his eyes. His hair was also all over the place.

“What the bloody hell you looking at?” John growled.

They all looked away except for Hermione who stared at him with disapproval.

Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky for John; Hermione was about to tell John off for being an ass. When they got into class, Ron and Hermione sat on either side of Harry and didn't talk to each other for the whole class.

“Am I boring you, Mr. Constantine?” McGonagall asked less than happy when she saw John with his eyes closed.

“Huh?” John said slowly looking at her as he wasn’t paying attention.

“Five points from Ravenclaw,” McGonagall said immediately in reaction to his rudeness.

“A hundred points, zero points,” John grunted. “Couldn’t care less.”

“Ten points from Ravenclaw,” McGonagall said.

When John didn’t do anything, McGonagall raised her wand and flicked it. That forced John to sit straight and with his eyes magically held open for the duration of the class.

“Whatever issues you have, Mr. Constantine,” McGonagall said, “don’t bring them into my class, or you’ll receive detention. Consider that your final warning.”

Harry still hadn't decided what he was going to say to Professor McGonagall when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first.

"One moment, please!" she called, as the class made to leave. "As you're all in my House, except for you Mr. Constantine, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Neville put up his hand.

"Please, Professor, I -- I think I've lost-”

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave." 

"Ask her now," Ron hissed at Harry.

"Oh. but-" Hermione began.

"Go for it, Harry," said Ron stubbornly.

Harry waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Yes, Potter?"

Harry took a deep breath.

"Professor, my aunt, and uncle… er… forgot to sign my form," he said.

Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at him but didn't say anything.

"So… er d'you think it would be all right mean, will It be okay if I… if I go to Hogsmeade?"

Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk.

I'm afraid not, Potter," she said. "You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That's the rule."

"But… Professor, my aunt, and uncle -- you know, they're Muggles, they don't understand… about Hogwarts forms and stuff," Harry said, while Ron egged him on with vigorous nods. "If you said I could go-”

"But I don't say so," said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. "The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission." She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? "I'm sorry, Potter, but that's my final word. You had better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lesson."

As he sullenly turned to leave, McGonagall spoke up.

“However,” McGonagall said, “If you would, please help John get over whatever it is that has him acting so unlike himself. I heard about the Boggart incident from Professor Lupin, but I didn’t get the particulars.”

There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an "all-for-the-best" expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade.

"There's always the feast," said Ron, to cheer Harry up. "You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening."

"Yeah," said Harry gloomily, "great."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin to English translation:  
> Latin: Et usque ad radices!  
> English: even out the roots!
> 
> A/N:  
> You know what you need to do if you like this story. Constructive criticism is welcome... as long as it's not 100% negative. don't know when I'll complete the next chapter, but it has recently been started.


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